Love was born

{a story of Khesed's birth}

Falling in love with my husband was not part of the birth plan.

For months, I have been praying that I would love Hans more, and more truly. Six and a half years of marriage taught me just how bound I am to self-love. Praying for divine intervention seemed like a sensible thing to do. I knew God answers prayers. God might even answer this one. Slowly and subtly, perhaps? I expected nothing fancy. But I was wrong.

Hans was the keynote speaker for a conference two weeks before the baby's due date. We had agreed to serve at this event months before we found out we were pregnant. We were really excited though we knew there was a risk that I might go into early labor while he was gone.

Hans was worried, understandably. But I insisted that he must go. I somehow managed to convince myself that I would be fine without him. After all, I've given birth twice. We made arrangements for family and friends to be here in case I do go into labor while he was away. The conference came and gone. And I did not go into labor. For this and so much more, I give thanks.

In the history of Biblical interpretation, many referred to the pain of childbearing as "the woman's curse." However, God himself never said this, not really. God cursed the serpent, and God cursed the ground. But never did he curse Adam and Eve, whom he made in his own image.

Instead, God gave his children pain. It would serve us well to remember that God gives only good gifts to his children. As a consequence of their rebellion, they shall have pain in their fruit bearing and child bearing years.

I had not shed a tear during my first two labors. They were undoubtedly painful, but I did not cry. By the third hour of this third labor, however, my face was wet with weeping. I heard groans unfamiliar to my own ears. Apparently, not all labor pains were created equal.

Pain can be such a cold, lonely thing. I saw myself as I truly was, weak and insufficient. Pain stripped away any delusion that I could manage life alone. I needed my husband. And my God, in his grace, gave him to me, for this hour, until death do us part.

In my delirium, I heard his voice reading Psalms 136, 137, 138, 139. By the waters of Babylon, there I wept, and he pointed me to Zion. I was so very glad I was not alone. As the labor escalated, he pulled me out of despair. His voice instructed me to recite Psalm 8, again and again and again, the way I would instruct the boys at the breakfast table every morning.

I saw my husband, as though for the first time. I saw how he pours himself out for his family and his church. I saw how he serves, how he loves. And there, in the labor and delivery room, God answered my prayer, though his way was neither slow nor subtle. I fell in love, again.

Therefore, I shall give thanks for the pain of childbearing,
for the pain that unveiled my eyes.
In the mess of blood and water,
love met me.

Khesed, Hebrew for Yahweh's covenantal, forever love. 

On the mountains and that timeless shore

{the story of Yohanan's birth}

The stars sang the night my contraction began. We had been waiting for weeks, though in reality it was only five days after his due date. He was overdue, but not the way this post is overdue. Now that he is turning one in less than two months, I better jot some things down before it all escapes me.

A few things will always remind me of that night: 1. Star Wars Episode II, 2. Triscuits with sharp cheddar cheese. The contractions started at around 7:30 p.m. I called my friend Jenni who months before had kindly promised to watch Emeth while we go to the hospital, we put Emeth to bed, and Hans and I sat back to "relax" with a movie.

The silly contractions stopped at around 10:30 p.m. I blame this on the horrendous plot of Episode II. To my great dismay, we went to sleep.

At around 8:30 the next morning, I was ecstatic that the contractions had returned! I felt pain! Yes! (Can you tell that I was done being pregnant?)

Everything was in place; every star was aligned. In fact, if you look very closely at the morning sky and squint a little, the stars spelled "Yohanan" -- the name we discovered just days before. Apparently, he didn't want to come out without a name.

Grace. "Hanan" means grace in Hebrew. And grace indeed overflowed that day.

We dropped Emeth off with Jenni at 10 a.m. and checked in at the hospital shortly after (we were about 10 minutes away). We used the same birth plan. Oddly enough, because both Emeth and Yohanan were born on Tuesdays in the same hospital, we had the exact same obstetrician/gynecologist, pediatrician, and many of the same nurses. Very surreal. Apparently, they kept the same schedule after two years.

I was already at 8cm dilated when the nurses checked me in. I know, I was very grateful. The labor had progressed throughout the night while I was sleeping.

Alas, labor pain is labor pain.

In those last hours, I was every woman.

I was Eve, lost in my longing to return to the Garden. I drank deeply the cup that was mine, the bitterness that was mine because I had disobeyed my Maker.

I was Mary, yearning for redemption and completion. The pain was cold and lonely. I wondered what were her thoughts, laboring in the stables that night.

Hans was so loving, as always. Giving me counter pressure. Reading the chart. Anticipating each contraction. Reading from every psalm that contained "Yohanan" -- "Yahweh, be gracious." Be gracious. Be gracious.

At 1:13 p.m., I heard Hans' voice, "he looks exactly like the one we have at home, honey." We greeted Yohanan Zi-Han at the shore of time and seasons. Unlike my awkward meeting with Emeth, this time I did cry. Seeing Yohanan's face was like a homecoming to me, though we were seeing him for the very first time.

He had two knots in his umbilical cord. Very rare, the doctor said, and potentially dangerous. But we had no idea. His placenta was "above average," according to the doctor. I asked to have a glimpse. Human anatomy is fascinating.

I often tease Hans about his nonathletic, physically-uncoordinated wife. He is one of the best athletes I know. My (short) list of strenuous exercises includes my labor, and mountain climbing. Mount Kinabalu and an entire rain forest was our backyard in Malaysia.

I loved mountain climbing. And I did it solely for the view from the top -- the bright stars, the sunsets, the sunrises. Recently, a video brought me back to the mountains. Watching the waves of clouds and the Milky Way was like a homecoming to me.

Perhaps returning to the Garden will be something like this -- when we arrive at that timeless shore. Perhaps our Father's face will look somewhat familiar, like a homecoming, though we will be beholding him for the very first time.


The Mountain from Terje Sorgjerd on Vimeo.

Weep I did not

{the story of Emeth's birth}

Let me be the first to admit that I am not one who can stand much physical discomfort. When I first expressed my desire for a natural birth, Hans was a little worried. One finds oneself willing to make exceptions, no matter how difficult, for the object of one's affections. We wanted to give our little person a good beginning, at least to the best of our knowledge and capabilities. This is why love is a powerful thing. It changes people. And it has since transformed me into a morning person. But I digress.

My feats of endurance are fine but few. Emeth's birth and my three climbs up Mount Kinabalu are among my cherished occasions of growth. However distinct the experiences were in kind, in many ways my memories of them parallel. They were endeavors of great hope, with promises of sunrises and new life. They were sweet yet marvelous, compelling in their reminders of my humanness, weak and messy, and my need for other human beings.

My water broke around midnight, on the first day of April, 2008.

Hans was my champion in shining armor, my confidant, and my doula that night. He held my hand, with the other hand putting counter-pressure on my lower back as each contraction progress. He paced me, watched the monitor, reported the lengths and strength of my contractions. I took at least three steaming hot showers; they relieved me tremendously. As the pain peaked, I was unable to stand and we had exhausted all hymns. It was Hans who asked me to recite for him a psalm in hebrew. Psalm 137 was the only one I knew by heart. Thus, in my delirious state, I sat by the waters of Babylon and chanted, though weep I did not.

Hans adds this part: A little before 9 a.m., we were starting to wonder how much longer this was going to go on, and how much worse it could get. Just as we were thinking this, the nurse came in, told us we were ready to give birth, and that the worst was over. Which it was. This period was more painful than the birth itself, which was a relief in comparison.

At 9:41 a.m., I gave one last push. Hans missed Emeth's arrival because I was holding him ever so tightly around his neck.

I've always thought people were lying when they say you will feel no pain once the baby is out. I thought this was an unrealistic, yet another romanticized hollywood myth about the noble feelings of motherhood (which I found I disturbingly lacked throughout my pregnancy). My friends, mothers-to-be, I can attest now there is at least some truth to this. And it is not because I was so "overcome with joy."

I was joyful, in many senses, but my first meeting with Emeth was a little awkward. I stared at him and said, "Hi Emeth" about a dozen times. I didn't know what else to say. Albeit I have given birth only once, I can assure you I felt no pain. In fact, I was walking and enjoyed my fourth shower that morning within two hours after the delivery. It is true that the recovery for the next few months was uncomfortable, but not awful.

Lastly, below is a copy of our birth plan (minus a few details for confidentiality) for the purpose of giving you a rough idea some things to consider. For the most part, our birth was what we hoped for. I did have an IV with antibiotic but I was still able to move about and take showers.

We would also like to add that we did take many hours of birthing classes with an extremely dedicated and competent instructor. These hours were extremely beneficial to us and suited to the way we learn as a couple.

Secondly, we are indebted to two nurses that night. Advocates of natural birth themselves, they believed us and were confident that we were committed to our decisions. They allowed us the space to labor with minimal supervision. Though the doctors gave several suggestions of drugs, the nurses respected our birth plan and were protective of our desired birth.

For all these things and so much more, we are thankful.

A Proposed Birth Plan

To the OB/GYN and the Family Birthing Center:

We are grateful for your help and care. As we look forward to the birth of our son, we would like to share with you a few decisions we have considered with respect to our delivery and recovery. We have made our decisions to the best of our understanding in the hope of a healthy and uncomplicated delivery for mother and child through natural childbirth.

Before labor:

• We would like to go into labor naturally, and not be induced before 42 week gestation period.

First stage of labor:

• We are working to avoid medication and will request it as needed
• We would like to have mobility during labor to encourage the labor process.
• In order to have the ability to move about, we would prefer intermittent fetal monitoring and to maintain hydration by regularly sipping water, rather than with an IV.

Second stage of labor:

• We are preparing to avoid an episiotomy and would prefer that the mother’s perineum tear naturally.
• We would like for the cord to stop pulsing before it is cut, and dad would like to cut the cord.

Third stage of labor:

• We ask that the mother would not be given Pitosin to deliver the placenta.

After the birth of our child:

• We plan to breastfeed our child exclusively and prefer no bottles or pacifier.

We are grateful and trust the discretion of our care providers. We look forward to experiencing this important event with you.